


The State of Fantasy

by dayindisguise



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Humiliation, M/M, Nurse!Arthur, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, doctor!eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayindisguise/pseuds/dayindisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At times like this, Arthur wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Dr. Eames in the face, or get down on his knees and suck his cock."</p><p>Eames is a doctor who just transferred in from the UK. He waltzes in like he owns the place, is an ass to everyone and likes to toe the sexual harrassment line. He rubs Arthur completely the wrong way and teases him for being a nurse. Arthur pines for him despite the degradation and humiliation he deals with from Dr. Eames every day. Dr. Eames is entirely oblivious to Arthur’s pining... and his kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The State of Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tony/gifts).



> This was written for my darling, [Tony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tony/profile) or [pretentiousprince](pretentiousprince.tumblr.com) on tumblr, after she prompted me for painfully straight Eames and pining Arthur. I twisted it to include her other prompt of asshole Doctor!Eames who relentlessly teases Nurse!Arthur and it morphed into some ridiculous kinky shit.

“A gorgeous woman like you, going home alone? What a shame when I happen to be free this evening.” Dr. Eames purred to the woman he stood too close to. Bracketed by one of his arms with his face was less than five inches from hers, he was an imposing figure in her space, and Arthur could see her blush from where he stood down the hall. Since Dr. Eames had transferred to their hospital three months ago, he had been strutting around as if he was chief of surgery instead of just another General practitioner. Arthur was fairly sure he had heard the man openly declaring he was God’s gift to women the other day, or something of that nature, and he was stunned there hadn’t been any sexual harassment charges filed yet. The English charm had to be the ticket that kept Dr. Eames out of trouble, plus that cheeky-charming smile and his good looks.

The woman bracketed by Dr. Eames was looking for a way out, something to say politely to get the man out of her personal space, but the poor girl, Gemma was her name, couldn’t quite get out her words. Dr. Eames’s skilled fingers that weren’t planted on the wall were slowly skimming over the woman’s side, flirting with the hem of her scrubs as she blushed furiously and stopped trying to make eye contact. Arthur’s footsteps fell quicker on the floor and he plucked up Gemma’s clipboard, hoping to save the poor girl from agreeing to something practically forced upon her.

“Gemma? It’s time for Mrs. Hutcherson’s sponge bath, isn’t it? And Mr. Alderson’s IV bag needs to be changed, I think.” Arthur did his best to assert himself, his chest pushed out slightly to see confident and self-assured.

Gemma took this opportunity to flash Arthur a thankful smile with a thick blush on her cheeks and as she slid out from Dr. Eames’s shadow, the Englishman turned toward the interruption with a thick smile of his own.

“Are we jealous, Arthur? Come now... You know you’re just as pretty as the rest of these ladies. I’d be... more inclined to give you attention if your scrubs were as low-cut as Gemma’s, though.”

Arthur felt his cheeks redden and his chest deflated slightly. It was just like Dr. Eames to treat him like the other nurses, to soon be bracketing him in close against the wall, an arm posted beside Arthur’s head as he spoke.

“I can’t wait to get in line for your attention, Eames. Of course.” Arthur attempted to lace his words with heavy sarcasm, but his voice was not as strong as he wanted it to be. The depth he had to his voice moments earlier had dissipated and his voice had gone slightly higher in embarrassment. There was something so intimidating about Dr. Eames, something so emasculating when the man bracketed Arthur just like he did all of the other nurses.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Arthur. Maybe tomorrow will be your evening, hm? Pretty thing like you... Lean and leggy, you’re nearly my type Arthur. A little flat-chested, mind you...” Dr. Eames told him. The shit-eating grin on his face made Arthur feel nauseated. At times like this, Arthur wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Dr. Eames in the face, or get down on his knees and suck his cock.

“I...I...wh... _what?_ ” Arthur’s face had reddened more, beet red, humiliated by the suave Englishman standing too close to him and telling him how pretty he was, objectifying his body like some woman’s. “Get the fuck out, Eames. There’s nothing for me to be jealous of. There isn’t enough money in the world for me to be... to be seen anywhere with you.” Arthur tried to be forceful and to express how disgusted he was at the idea of being anywhere with the doctor, but his stuttering and an air of... uncertainty in Arthur’s words left a broad grin on Dr. Eames’s face.

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head. Leave the attitude to us doctors and go play nurse with the rest of the fine young ladies.”

“I don’t know who the... the fuck you think you are... coming in here like you’re... like you’re some kind of big shot when you’re just, ” Arthur managed to get out, not finishing his sentence and instead huffing at the other man, fists clenched at his sides, as if he was ready to strike at the next degrading comment.

He was cut off by the lowered tone of Dr. Eames’s voice, sounding menacing but still an unsettling sort of seductive, “I know what I’m good for, Arthur. I have enough women at my beck and call to prove it to you. Just because you want my big thick cock in your needy pussy doesn’t give you the right to ruin my day.” The Englishman smirked when he was greeted with Arthur’s jaw hanging open, speechless, gaping in an attempt to make some sort of redeeming comment.

“Enjoy the rest of your shift, _nurse Arthur_.” Dr. Eames told him, stroking his finger down Arthur’s nose before lightly tapping the end.

Arthur had never been more humiliated in his life. He stood absolutely silent, frozen in place and unable to look at the doctor who leered at him before stalking off to finish his rounds for the evening. There were no words left in Arthur’s brain, nothing on the tip of his tongue to call after the man. He was quick to scurry to the bathroom in the east wing, as far away from Dr. Eames as physically possible. Arthur locked himself in the single-stall bathroom and gripped at the porcelain sink. He leaned forward over it and wanted to smash his face off of the faucet, cursing the erection that had forced him to flee the hallway so fast.

Splashing his face with water from cupped hands, Arthur found himself gripping the sink again soon after. Willing away his erection wasn’t having much of an effect. No matter what he did, what he tried to think about (baseball, football, cold showers, his grandmother) nothing could erase Dr. Eames’s taunt from his mind.

“ _Just because you want my big thick cock in your needy pussy..._ ” Arthur shuddered bodily and bit down on his fist in an attempt to stifle the groan that got stuck in his throat. How he had developed this kink, this sexual desire to be emasculated and degraded, to be objectified and treated as a woman, Arthur wasn’t sure but Dr. Eames was slowly and surely killing him with it. He pushed down on his erection with his free palm and leaned back against the tiled wall.

Constantly, Arthur berated himself for being turned on by the way Dr. Eames talked to him. His status as a nurse certainly didn’t help Dr. Eames’s association of Arthur as an inferior and almost female entity. The conceited and dominant air that Dr. Eames exuded made Arthur’s knees quake at the worst of times. Being bracketed by the older, larger man, feeling diminished in size when Dr. Eames seemed to loom over him... it made Arthur throb in all of the wrong places. Immediately all focus would fall on his ass, on his _needy pussy_ according to Dr. Eames, and Arthur wished that wasn’t the case. He wanted his cock to throb and swell at the idea of getting laid, but not at the degradation and feminized comments Dr. Eames hurled at him.

Soon, Arthur had given up hope that his erection would wilt on it’s own. He wouldn’t be expected back at the nurses’ station for another fifteen minutes, long enough to pretend he’d gone down for a snack on his break. It would be perfect as long as no one came knocking on the bathroom door. Arthur moved and twisted the lock, separating himself from the rest of the hospital before shoving at his scrubs until they pooled at his ankles.

The same fantasy clouded his mind as soon as his fingers wrapped around his cock and his other hand came to rub between his ass cheeks.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dr. Eames has cornered him on the graveyard shift, the other nurses off on their rounds and no patients in one of Arthur’s many rooms. Almost immediately, Arthur finds himself pressed to the wall, the hot bulk of Dr. Eames forcing him there, his hard cock pressing against his thigh insistently. His scrubs may as well have been a teensy white nurses outfit with the way Dr. Eames makes him feel ridiculous and silly for attempting to look masculine in scrubs.

“What’s the sense in it, Arthur? I’ve seen the pretty lace panties under those scrubs... Pretty lace covering a pretty cunt...” Dr. Eames purrs in his ear and drags his teeth over the curve. He keeps Arthur pinned to the wall with a strong arm and shoves rough fingers down into Arthur’s scrubs to rub at his hole through his briefs... No...Through the lace panties Arthur hides in his top drawer for nights he needs an extra something. He would never wear them outside of the bedroom, but somehow Dr. Eames would get him into them. The lace is smooth on his skin, too smooth. It makes him shudder when it touches tender skin and Arthur exhales a quick breath that Dr. Eames practically forces out of his body. He’s being manhandled soon, a strong arm banding across his chest, pulling him back against the bulky man’s body. Arthur can’t stop it when his cock is squeezed, surprisingly soft considering the hands roaming over his body.

“That’s right, Arthur… No need for a hard cock, hm? All the focus should be on your pussy like all the other girls.” Arthur doesn’t want to be a girl. He never wanted to have a pussy. The concept of having his asshole treated like one, used and abused, stretched and filled, makes Arthur groan around the fist he’s shoved in his mouth. Despite himself, Arthur is rocking his hips back against the press of Dr. Eames’s fingers through the lace on his hole. He’s desperate and needy and he’d agree to anything the man says if it means satisfaction for him.

Dr. Eames has Arthur’s scrubs down around his ankles in no time, having him step out of them before his top joins the bottoms. The man’s rough hands come to Arthur’s chest, cupping his pectorals and squeezing, his fingers tweaking tender nipples and making Arthur cry out like nothing else. “Tender little titties, Arthur… They’re still fun to play with even if they aren’t very big.” Dr. Eames would mock him in his ear, forcing Arthur to look at himself in the full-length mirror next to the patient’s bed. He looks ludicrous and his cheeks flame hot at the sight of those lace panties covering his soft cock, tucking it away to keep the focus on his asshole, his pussy.

“Come on, Nurse Arthur… Don’t you want to play Doctor with me? Show me where it hurts.” Dr. Eames teases him, the mocking tone in his voice something dangerous and insulting but flowing straight down to make Arthur throb. His cock is hardening, fleshing out the little lace panties, still trapped and held out of the way. Dr. Eames doesn’t even consider touching his cock for a moment.

“It hurts there…” Arthur half-whines. His voice is higher and pathetic, needy and feminine despite his desperation not to give into Dr. Eames’s humiliation. He can’t help himself.

“Where, Arthur? Show Dr. Eames where it hurts.”

Arthur guides the man’s big rough hand back down to his hole, letting him rub through his panties again while he bites his lip to stifle himself.

Dr. Eames is tugging down Arthur’s red lace panties in no time, sucking his thumb before moving it against the flesh of his hole and listening to Arthur whine with dire need in response. “There.” He tells the doctor behind him, looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t meet Dr. Eames’s eyes, his face flushed far too red, too ashamed to admit he’s enjoying this.

“Let me make it all better, Arthur. Would you like Dr. Eames to make it all better? Be a good little thing and stick that ass out so I can get at your pussy.”

Arthur is bending over the bed soon, his hands behind him to spread his cheeks, facing away from the Englishman behind him who is spreading lubricant over meaty fingers and soon pressing them one by one into the squirming Arthur. They’re longer and thicker than his own, forcing him to adapt to the stretch before he’s quite ready. The whines leaving him are almost involuntary, whimpers and pathetic noises that he soon can’t stop from rolling off of his tongue. Dr. Eames’s fingers are skilled and know just where to tease him.

“Does your pussy like my big fingers, Arthur? Such a pretty hole for me to stretch out with them… I’m sure it’ll look beautiful wrapped around my big fat cock. Won’t it, Arthur dear? You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Dirty boy.”

Arthur can hardly make words, and settles for a strangled, pathetic moan that sounds much more desperate than intended. In his fantasy, Arthur has lost all control of his words, just writhing and squirming, wordlessly begging for his hole to be fille. He keeps his hands down, spreading his ass cheeks for Dr. Eames. He can’t speak but he _needs_.

In no time the press of three thick fingers is gone and Arthur gasps in shock, clenching down on nothing in an attempt to keep from feeling empty. It’s as if he feels incomplete now, like a part of him is missing without Dr. Eames’s big fingers filling him. The shock is registered again, but this time an intrusion. A slicked cock is forcing its way into Arthur and the nurse is screaming out in pain and pleasure, that deep need finally sated when he feels Dr. Eames flush against his ass, heavy balls against his own. He feels dwarfed by the larger man, emasculated with a thick cock in his ass. His own cock is purpled and throbbing underneath him but he pays it no attention. His hands are still busy holding himself open. He wasn’t told to do otherwise.

“That’s a pretty boy, Arthur. Spread that cunt open nice and wide for me. That’s it.” Dr. Eames encourages him, his big hands splayed and gripping at Arthur’s hips as he allows moments for the nurse to adjust to his size. Before Arthur can speak, before he attempts to speak, Dr. Eames is driving his hips forward. The thrusts are hard and heavy, sinking in deep and sweeping against Arthur’s prostate with no real finesse. This is about Dr. Eames satisfying himself, and Arthur’s pussy is just his current fix.

“Eames… _Dr. Eames!_ ” Arthur manages to cry out as Dr. Eames refuses to ease up on the brutality of his thrusts. He feels like an object, one step above an inflatable doll the doctor could have picked up instead. He’s bent over a hospital bed, running the risk of being interrupted, of everyone seeing the red lace around his ankles and the thick cock buried deep in his ass.

He knows no one would question Dr. Eames, why his cock was buried in a man’s ass. “What a pretty pussy you have, Arthur… what a pretty pussy.” The words ricochet around Arthur’s mind as he’s fucked relentlessly, his knuckles white from the grip on his own ass cheeks, unconcerned whether bruises would be left behind for the next day. He would be the only one to see those bruises, to remember how he spread himself open wide for the dominant doctor to plunder.

Every time Dr. Eames pulls out, Arthur can feel his hole gaping. The fingers loosened him up, and the big, thick cock forced him open. His pretty pussy would gape for Dr. Eames, begging for more without words, pleading to be filled and fucked over and over.

It wouldn’t be long before Dr. Eames’s thrusts would become more erratic, harder and faster, shallow, focused on bringing his own release and not on Arthur and his needy pussy. Arthur is making incoherent noises, his nails digging into his cheeks when Dr. Eames yanks his cock back and peels off the condom faster than Arthur could ever dream of. The next thing he feels is the hot, sticky wet of Dr. Eames’s come lining the cleft of his ass, dripping down over his gaping hole and rolling in rivulets into the fucked-open space. Arthur wouldn’t have stopped it if he tried.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In reality, Arthur found himself tense and fighting not to scream as his orgasm rips through him, come spilling over the head of his cock and down his fist. His muscles were tensed and tight as he pumped himself through it, teasing his thumb against his hole but refusing to press in. He denied himself that in favour of keeping upright against the wall. Arthur’s whole body was shaking when he walked over to the sink and rinsed the mess from his fist and cleaned himself up using some toilet paper. He inwardly hoped he didn’t do any screaming while lost in reverie. Absently, Arthur brushed his fingers back over the cleft in his ass when he yanked his briefs back up and tucked his spent cock away. He felt dirty and humiliated, his own mind running away with him and aiding the asshole Dr. Eames in his torment.

He could hear Dr. Eames’s thick accent as soon as he steps out of the bathroom. The man stood by the nurses’ station when Arthur returned, a brunette happy on his arm. She was slender and leggy, like Dr. Eames had told Arthur he was, though her tits were ample unlike his. He overheard Dr. Eames telling the blonde women behind the desk how she was the perfect woman for him, just the right amount of beautiful and dangerous.

“Maybe next week will be your turn, Arthur.” Dr. Eames spoke openly, his voice carrying over the space between where he is and where Arthur had come to stand next to the desk. He blushed furiously and muttered something like ‘Go fuck yourself’ but it only reminded Arthur of where he just spent the last fifteen minutes. Arthur hung his head and grappled with his files before hurrying himself off, attempting to save the last shreds of his dignity and focus on putting the right doses and medications in the little paper cups for his elderly patients.

He vaguely heard Dr. Eames calling his goodbyes and a special holler to ‘Nurse Arthur’ so the entire floor would hear the derision in his tone. Arthur forced himself to tear his mind from the asshole of a man and consider punching his charming face rather than seeing it looming over his shoulder as he spreads himself open.


End file.
